A Simple Faith

by Rosalind Lauer

  Rachel shook her head, tears glittering in her eyes. “It was my fault, and I don’t know how to stop thinking about it. I don’t think I’ll ever get over this. It will never end.”

  For the second time that day, Ruben pictured himself on the daybed in the kitchen. His six-year-old self, moaning in anguish. Alone and desperate for relief.

  “I thought it would never end,” he said aloud.

  “What was that?” Dylan asked.

  When Ruben looked up, everyone was watching him. Everyone except Rachel, who whimpered into a handkerchief.

  “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Ruben rubbed his chin.

  “That’s okay.” Dylan held his hand out, palm up. “Tell us more. If you’ve had a similar experience, it might help Rachel to hear about it.”

  Ruben let his eyes sweep round the table, afraid of the disapproval that he encountered so often.

  Instead, he saw understanding. Compassion. Sorrow. These folks had been through a lot with him. They didn’t care that his father had given up farming for a more profitable trade.

  “I was thinking of something that happened to me when I was a boy. A terrible thing. I was in pain for a long time, and I wanted to give up. I thought it would never end.”

  “So you were experiencing feelings similar to what Rachel is going through now.” Dylan’s eyes tracked Ruben, as if he were a deer in the forest. “But it did end, didn’t it. The pain ended.”

  “It did.”

  “How did you cope? Was it your faith that got you through those difficult times?”

  “It was my faith … in a funny sort of way.”

  Dylan nodded encouragingly, and the others watched expectantly. Even Zed had uncrossed his arms and leaned in toward the table.

  Ruben took a deep breath and sighed. He didn’t want to give voice to the miracle, but right now Rachel needed a miracle of her own. “Don’t laugh,” he said. “It’s angels who help me get through.”

  Silence filled the room, soft and respectful.

  Elsie’s eyes were round as quarters, full of awe and wonder.

  “It’s not that I’m saying I’m blessed more than anyone else. It’s just that, when I was a boy, I was in a terrible accident. That was when the angels started coming.”

  Dylan pushed back the sleeves of his sweater. “Please … tell us more.”

  Ruben shifted in his chair. He didn’t like talking about himself, but he wasn’t afraid of the people here at the table. “Some of you know about what happened to me when I was a young boy. It was a terrible thing that left scars, inside and out. I was in physical pain, and after it happened many people thought it was my fault. Ya, I was just a kid, but around here a good Amish boy knows his way around a plow. I wasn’t experienced, and sometimes when things go wrong folks are quick to pin the blame.”

  Zed swallowed hard, his eyes softening. Rachel and Elsie watched him quietly. He knew they had heard the story.

  “It was back in the days when my father was still farming the land. Everyone in the family worked at it one way or another. Dat didn’t have a love for farming in his heart, but he was born into it like his brother, and so that was what they did. One day, I was out helping my uncle. He was going to let me steer the plow, and I was pretty happy about that. I was six years old, and I wanted to show that I could do a man’s work.”

  Ruben paused as he slid into that sunny spring day. He remembered the sheer joy of being able to ride the plow with Paul. It was a bumpy ride, but his uncle made a joke of it, just as he did of every small problem. Always joking. Paul was telling a funny story and Ruben was looking down, watching the ground pass below them: rich, dark dirt unearthed by the blade of the plow.

  “I looked up, and Paul was swatting at the air and … I thought someone had sprinkled pepper on us. The air was thick with black specks. Paul got frantic, slapping at his neck and arms. And then there was a burning on my neck, and I realized it was bees in the air. We had plowed through a nest of bees.” The fear of that moment was a fist in his gut.

  “Ach!” Rachel balled the handkerchief up in her hands. “What a terrible thing!”

  Ruben closed his eyes a moment, imagining Paul here beside him, Paul smiling and clapping him on the back. Paul telling him to let the bad memory go.

  “Are you allergic to bees?” Haley asked.

  “I’m not allergic, but it turned out Paul was. He lost control of the plow and it went off-track. I think the horses panicked, and we both fell off and got run over by the equipment.”

  “Was Paul okay?” Elsie asked, the pure love in her eyes causing his throat to grow thick. She was too young to know the details.

  Ruben shook his head. “He died. Between his allergic reaction and a bump on the head, it killed him.”

  Had he ever spoken these words aloud? Ruben didn’t think so. He didn’t know that he had the courage to tell his story, but now that he had started the words flowed like an endless river.

  “I woke up in a hospital, all stitched up across my belly and my back and my leg. The doctors thought it was a miracle that I didn’t get killed, too. But there were problems, serious infections. The wounds were painful and they kept me in bed for a whole year. At one point, I thought I’d never get out and see the blue sky again.” Ruben pressed his eyes closed, as Paul’s voice whispered in his ear.

  You’re fine now. That bad spell is over.

  That was Paul; vigilant, always by his side.

  “I’m fine now, but back then … then I was in pain all the time. I couldn’t sleep, and when I did, my dreams took me to a dark, terrible place. The doctors said I would be fine again, but the recovery was so slow. It didn’t seem to be getting any better, and I couldn’t take it. I wanted to get away from myself. I felt like I had lost myself. I started praying that Gott would take me to be with Paul, and then, sort of blurry-eyed and tired, I imagined that Paul was coming to me. He seemed to be there, right by my side, kind and good. He protected me and helped me look away from the pain. I was six. I thought he was an angel.”

  “An angel.” Elsie smiled. “Praise be to Gott!”

  “That’s beautiful,” Haley said. “It gives me goose bumps.”

  “Do you still see Paul?” Rachel asked. “Does he still visit you?”

  “He does. Along with other angels. Some of them, I can’t see their faces, but I know they visit. I feel them beside me, patting my back. Some of them are people I knew. My doddy. A dog we used to have named Booboo. A boy I met at the hospital who had cancer.”

  “And after these angels visit you, do you feel better?” Dylan asked.

  “I do. They bring me comfort, but it’s not always easy. I used to cry with them. All the sadness wells up inside me and …” Ruben felt that familiar sorrow burn the back of his throat. “The angels surround me with comfort and I cry. Then, I feel better.”

  “Light is most precious when it comes after darkness.” The old proverb was probably the first thing Zed had said all day, but he hit the nail on the head.

  “That’s right.” Ruben looked around at the folks he had come to care about. “We’ve all learned that, haven’t we?” He looked directly at Rachel. Was she ready to let herself step out of the pool of misery?

  Silently, Rachel nodded.

  “This would be a good time for our guided imagery exercise,” Dylan said in his authoritative but calm “therapist” voice. “Today, we’ll focus on healing, both in body and soul. Healing from physical wounds, and healing a broken heart.” As Dylan helped them relax, one muscle at a time, Ruben felt a flash of insecurity. Had he just admitted that he cried with angels? He had told the girls that he cried. That alone was something no self-respecting man would admit. But, well, it was out now, and his friends seemed to understand.

  Rachel seemed to have calmed down, at least for now.

  Ruben hoped that his angel story had helped.

  It was a good thing, said a familiar voice. Paul? Or his doddy? Or simply his conscience? Ruben wasn’t s
ure, but it didn’t matter. He settled into the chair and fell into Dr. Monroe’s tale of being guided through a tunnel of golden light by friends, angels, teachers, favorite animals, loved ones who had passed.

  31

  “This will look so perfect in my house.” The customer wearing the necklace of brightly colored stones chatted as Elsie began to wrap the wooden baby cradle. “It’s an old Victorian, and there’s a nook beside the stairs that’s just crying out for something like this.”

  Elsie wondered what a crying nook would sound like. She thought to make a joke, but simply smiled as she kept wrapping the item.

  “I think I might put one of those fake fat candles beside it.” The customer—Gwen Slavin, from the check she had written—didn’t seem to care at all about the cradle’s high price. “You know those fake candles that run on batteries? That’ll be quaint, don’t you think?”

  “Ya.” Elsie nodded for Ruben to lift the cradle so that she could properly wrap it. Her hand brushed his as she slid bubble wrap under the runners, and she smiled to herself at the tingle of warmth that passed between them. Ruben was such a big help. She was grateful his father had said that he could spare him from managing Zook’s barn until the busy season came in the late spring.

  She glanced up at him, admiring his square jaw, his wide and thoughtful eyes. But then he caught her looking and she lowered her head once again. Whenever their eyes met, she was sure he could see what she was feeling, and she wasn’t ready to share that. Truth be told, she wanted him here because she wanted to be near him. His daily presence filled her heart with laughter, and there was nothing like his honesty.

  And at last week’s session, when he had told the group about his angels, that was the moment. That was when Elsie knew there was no one in the world quite as wonderful as Ruben Zook.

  “You must think I’m verhuddelt,” he had said after last week’s counseling session. “A grown man, talking about angels.”

  “Your story took my breath away,” Elsie had told him. “It’s such a beautiful thing, Ruben, having angels to comfort you. Gott has truly blessed you.”

  “I’m thankful for it—but I don’t want anyone thinking that I’m special. I wasn’t bragging about it.”

  She had assured him that no one thought he was bragging, and the conversation had fallen off. But in her mind, she was thrilled to imagine Ruben and the angels. In some ways her heart ached to think of six-year-old Ruben, so alone and in such pain! But then Gott in His Mercy had sent Ruben the comfort he’d needed. It was nothing short of a miracle.

  “There we go,” Elsie said as she finished wrapping the wooden cradle. “That should keep anything from scratching it on the way home.”

  “And there’s a card taped to the bottom of the cradle,” Ruben added. “It tells you a little about Adam King, the Amish man who made it.”

  “Perfect. You have a delightful shop, Elsie. I know I haven’t been here before, but it seems so familiar.”

  “Maybe you’re thinking of another country store. There are many in Lancaster County.”

  “Oh, sure, but there’s something about yours … I don’t know.”

  Elsie had to tamp down the surge of delight over Gwen’s comments. She didn’t want to be proud, and she wasn’t taking credit for the store’s success. The truth was, with Halfway right smack between Lancaster and Philadelphia, in the heart of Amish country, it was a great location for a store with Amish goods. She had always thought of the town as a sort of crossroads for the Amish, but since the accident she had come to see that their little town was a crossroads for Englishers, too.

  “Halfway is a good location for our shop,” Elsie said. “And whether you choose to go north, south, east, or west from here, I say a prayer that Gott will bless each person who passes through here.”

  Gwen smiled. “That’s such a lovely sentiment.”

  The bells at the shop door jangled and Haley came in, dressed in her nursing scrubs and clogs. “Long time, no see,” she joked. Ruben and Elsie had seen her thirty minutes ago at a counseling session down the street. “I hope you don’t mind. Got some time to kill before I head over to the hospital.”

  “You’re always welcome here.” It wasn’t unusual for Haley to hang around the store. In the month or so since the accident, Elsie had gotten attached to the Englisher girl who spoke her mind and always seemed on the lookout to help other folks.

  “Are you a doctor?” the customer asked.

  “Just a nursing student. But I live right outside Halfway.”

  Gwen Slavin looked from Haley to Elsie to Ruben. “Wait a minute. Are you the nursing student in the newspaper? The one who came across the accident on the highway a while back?”

  “That was me,” Haley answered slowly.

  Elsie licked her suddenly dry lips.

  “And you’re Elsie Lapp and …” She covered her mouth with one hand. “You were in the van. Of course! That’s why the name of your store rings a bell. I read all about it. I’m so sorry. It must be hard for you. I wouldn’t have brought it up, except that I just pieced it all together right now.”

  “It’s okay,” Elsie said softly. “It doesn’t bother me to talk about it so much anymore.” For that, she was grateful to Dylan Monroe. Counseling had taken the sharp edge from the terrible memories of the crash, allowing her to talk about it without breaking into tears. The crash and losing Dat … it still hurt her to remember that difficult time.

  These days Elsie’s heart ached more for the losses that clung to their lives. James stuck in a wheelchair. Rachel suffering from guilt. Fanny about to have a baby that would never know their father. Dear Fanny, so strong on the outside, but delicate as a rose on the inside.

  Gwen pressed a hand to her chest. “I am sorry.”

  “No reason to be,” Elsie said. “Everyone has some healing to do; it’s a part of life.”

  “You’re a sweet young lady, and I’m happy to have met you and found your shop. I’m sure I’ll be sending my friends here. The town is really charming, but what an odd name. How did that happen?”

  “I’ve always wondered about that, too,” Haley agreed.

  Elsie looked up at Ruben, whose blue eyes twinkled. “Do you want to tell them?”

  “No one knows for sure, but my family’s marketplace—you know Zook’s barn?” When Gwen nodded, Ruben went on. “That was built many, many years ago by a man named Jeremiah Stoltzfus. Jeremiah lived in a settlement in Christiana, but he had brothers he was always visiting in Strasburg. Being Amish, he was always traveling to Strasburg by horse and buggy, and that’s a very long trip. Jeremiah got tired of so much traveling. So one day, he bought some land halfway between Christiana and Strasburg. He built a house and a barn, and other people started building and it became a town. And that’s how Halfway got its name.”

  “Fascinating.” Gwen put her checkbook away in her purse. “Well, I guess that’s it for me. Unless you want to sell me that beautiful box in the window.”

  “The box with the cherries painted on it?” Haley asked. “I like that one, too.”

  “But it’s a family treasure, made by my great-great-grandmother in 1933.” Elsie recalled how her dat had told Caleb and Emma and her that it was something to pass down to the next generation. “I want to keep it in our family.”

  “I can understand that.” Gwen tapped the check on the counter. “But you’ve got my phone number. Promise me you’ll call me first if you decide to sell.”

  “Ya. I promise.” But she knew that day would never come.

  While Ruben carried the cradle out to Gwen’s car, Haley moved closer to the sales counter.

  “Now that we’re alone, I wanted to ask you about Dylan’s suggestion today,” Haley said. “About Graciana.”

  At today’s session, Dylan had told the group that he wanted to invite Graciana Estevez to join in future sessions. He knew it might be difficult, but he thought that in the end it could help everyone heal, including Graciana.

  “What is
it?”

  “Is it really okay with you if she attends a meeting? I mean, I know everyone said yes, that all is forgiven, but you lost more than anyone in our group. If it would bother you in the least, I’ll talk to Dylan about calling it off. He could say it didn’t work with her schedule or whatever.”

  Running a feather duster over one of the shelves, Elsie tried to measure the reaction deep inside her. “When I think of Graciana, I remember the love in her eyes when she talked about her daughter. And then the sorrow … the pain of losing Clara.”

  Haley nodded. “I’ll never forget that. When she said the angels came to carry Clara to heaven.”

  “It was so very sad. And that’s my feeling for Graciana. Sorrow and sympathy.”

  “Really?” Haley put one hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side. “It doesn’t bother you that her daughter made a stupid mistake that killed two people and put one in a wheelchair? Because I can go there, too.”

  “I have no bad feelings for Graciana,” Elsie said firmly.

  “Okay, good. Just wanted to make sure that was the case.” Haley squinted at her. “Because you’re way too nice to say anything hurtful. I just want to make sure someone’s watching out for you.”

  “There is always someone watching over me.” Elsie was thinking of the Almighty Father and His angels when the bells jangled and Ruben came in the door.

  Haley looked toward the door, then leaned forward to whisper, “That’s right; you have Ruben. And that stuff you said about just being friends? You’re not slipping that one past me.”

  Elsie squinted up at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Gotta go!” Haley raised one hand in a wave. “Bye, guys. Catch you next week.”

  She blew out of the store like a winter wind, leaving Elsie to wonder just what folks were thinking about Ruben and her.

  “We got a customer for life, I think,” Ruben said.

  Elsie had to admit she liked the way he said “we.” Ruben had slipped into her routine in the store so smoothly, the way that winter slowly melted into spring.

  He came closer and then stopped at the display of baby items and rearranged the two remaining cradles to fill the space. “Gwen Slavin said she’ll be back with all her friends.”